


Black, Red and Gold

by Narya (Narya_Flame), Narya_Flame



Series: Nárë a Lindalë [16]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bittersweet, Chocolate Box Exchange, First Age, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya_Flame
Summary: "There was no jealousy in his gaze - only understanding, and the deep, burning love of kin...."Finrod's springtime visit to Dor-lómin is full of surprises.A gift for amyfortuna, written for Chocolate Box 2020.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Fingon | Findekáno/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: Nárë a Lindalë [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133360
Comments: 16
Kudos: 32
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Black, Red and Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna (elwinfortuna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwinfortuna/gifts).



_**Dor-lómin** _

_**F.A. 74** _

It was plain from watching their greeting in Fingon's halls – or at least, it was plain to Finrod, who had known them since their earliest youth in Aman. Fingon met all of his guests with a kiss on the cheek and a clasp of the shoulder, but it was Maedhros he held longest in his arms; it was on Maedhros that his eyes lingered with a knowing, mischievous affection; most tellingly, it was Maedhros's ring that he wore on the third finger of his left hand.

Finrod hid a laugh when he noticed it. _At last._ It was a clever touch; the ring was a simple one, unadorned by crest or sigil. A curlicued white gold band cradled a glittering ruby – unmistakable to the family and friends used to seeing it on Maitimo's hand in the West, but not flagrant enough to arouse suspicion among Fingon's courtiers.

His cousins were discreet in front of their retinues. Later, though, when the three of them rode out into the plains of Dor-lómin and sprawled on the ground, laughing and teasing and remembering, Fingon trailed a lazy hand through Maedhros's hair. Maedhros's scarred face softened, and he closed his eyes.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Finrod asked, watching them with amusement.

Maedhros opened one eye, and the charming smile he gave was almost the one that Finrod remembered from the long, golden days they had spent at their grandfather's summer house. “One grows used to secrecy. And it was easier this way.”

“I am glad for you.” Lightly, Finrod touched his mental bond with Celegorm in far-away Aglon. _Did you not think to tell me either?_

A swift response, a brush on his mind like the prickle of a wolf's pelt. _It was not mine to tell._

Finrod's lips curved, remembering how he and Tyelko had despaired of Maitimo and Findekáno both. And then had come the sundering of their Houses, the terrible Oath sworn by torchlight in Tirion, the Ice and the rescue and the passing of the crown. Afterwards, when their two realms were established so many leagues apart – at Maedhros's insistence, Finrod remembered – it had seemed hopeless between them.

And yet here they were.

Wind hissed down from the hills and set the long grass racing. For a moment he fancied he heard Amarië's voice on the breeze, laughing with him – but she was far away, across the Sea and beyond his reach.

A gentle hand gripped his arm. Fingon. He covered his cousin's fingers with his own, and summoned a smile. “I'm sorry.”

"Amarië?" Fingon asked.

"You know me too well."

Maedhros sat up, shadows in his eyes. “You will see her again, my dear.” He drew Finrod into his arms and kissed his brow. 

Finrod remembered the brush of her lips, the tickle of her delicate fingertips, her messy workroom, the endless nights they'd spent gazing at the stars – and then Fingon's cheek was pressed against his. Gentle hands stroked his hair. His cousin's breath curled warmly in the hollow of his neck, and Finrod's blood heated and his body began to ache, as it used to in the savage cold of the Helcaraxë when they had turned to one another for comfort. “Káno...”

Maedhros cupped Finrod's cheek. There was no jealousy in his gaze – only understanding, and the deep, burning love of kin. He knew, Finrod realised – and then he bit back a moan as Fingon's hand strayed under his shirt and traced teasing circles on his belly. Maedhros tilted his head as though asking for permission.

_Please, cousin._

Their lips met. Beneath a springtime sun they tumbled down into the grass, and fire leapt between them and consumed them all.


End file.
